


Foxes of the Night

by Raccoonfg



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Drinking, Drunkenness, Foxes, Gay Bar, Gen, Nocturnal District, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7349992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raccoonfg/pseuds/Raccoonfg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gideon is in town and Judy asks Nick to show him around and have a little fun, but instead of the usual tourist traps they head for the Nocturnal District, where the night never ends and the drinks never stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foxes of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> The following short story was written for /trash/'s Thematic Thursday event; the Nocturnal District (06/30/16)

“Thanks Nick, I’m glad that you’re able to make time to show Gideon around the city. It really means a lot to me. Just show him some of the usual tourist spots and I’m sure you’ll have a fun time.”

“Sure thing, Carrots.”

The usual tourist spots? That’s cute. Judy was cute.

Nick knew the real way to show a country fox a fun time in the big city.

The first thing to do was to call up Finnick and bring him into the fold. Not only did he have the means to drive them around, but it was also good to go out as a group and not as a duo; less assumptions are made that way.

“You’re gonna hit the ND and get some hick tore up? Heh. Count me in.”

With Finnick on board, the next step was to pick up the mammal of the evening and get him fixed up for the night. He had Finnick pick him up from work so they could head directly to Gideon’s motel and pick him up for the pre-game prep.

“Gosh, Nick. It’s mighty kind of you and your little buddy to show me around tonight. Are you sure you’re okay with me borrowing this shirt of yours?”

“Am I okay? Gid, buddy, you can keep it.”

Flannel shirts and bolo neckties were not acceptable attire for a night on the town. Not by a long shot. Lucky for them, Nick had an oversized spare lying around; a black and cream bowling shirt he had gotten from his Uncle Bedford. It just managed to fit the robust baker, and made him look slightly less dorky to boot.

But there was still something missing…

“Hey, Fin, pass me some gel.”

With a little mixing, fussing and teasing, Nick managed to work Gideon’s dopey mop into something passably dynamic. He finished with a lick of his thumb and straightened one remaining limp curl into a jutting spike. Satisfied with the results, he nodded in approval at his own work.

The three of them were now dressed up and pumped up; ready and raring to hit the best part of Zootopia where three foxes can cut loose; where the night never ends and the drinks never stop.

The Nocturnal District.

“The foxes have arrived!”

Starting off slow, they dropped in at Nick and Finnick’s old haunt, a pub by the name of The Broken Bugle, where they ordered a round of boilermakers to commemorate the occasion. Polishing off their pints, Nick slapped a few bills on the counter and motioned for them to move on.

“A-already? But we jes’ got here, Nick.”

“Giddy. Gid. Gidster,” Nick wrapped an arm around Gideon’s thick neck and jokingly rubbed his gut. “You’d think that living among the bunnies you’d know a thing or two about bar hopping.”

From there they moved on to Finnick’s pick, Dead Players. The ambiance was a little too New Wave for Nick’s tastes, but it still impressed Gideon with its stark clashes of blue and pink painted over matte black walls, illuminated by rows of blacklights on the ceiling. He ordered them each one of the house’s signature drinks; a curiously milky cocktail of six different unspecified spirits served in a featureless glass cylinder, named The White Beast. Gideon’s attempts to get a consensus that it tasted like vanilla and coconut was drowned out by music that Nick could only describe as techno for goldfish.

Moving on, they dropped in at Can Bangers, a near legendary destination for fans of dive bars and bad punk bands. A chalkboard sign by the door announced that tonight’s show featured a two-piece group known as Trash Panda/Rash Panther; Nick never heard of them, but the tumbling disaster of music that blared out into the street made him sure they weren’t worth knowing.

They practically had to drag Gideon into the place, assuring him that the mass of thrashing raccoons and possums wasn’t a riot in the makings; it was just college kids slam-dancing like idiots. Straining his vocal cords to their very limit, Nick tried to snatch the bartender’s attention through the heavy fog of muddy guitar riffs and was eventually rewarded with an armload of bottled beers.

“They haven’t fixed their taps in twenty years,” Finnick yelled over the erratic crashing of hi-hats and floor toms, passing a couple beers to Gideon. “Just be glad you weren’t here when they used to siphon from the keg to the glass.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, what’re your feelings about catching hepatitis A?”

As soon as their bottles ran dry and their ears started to bleed, Nick led them back out into the street to consider their next destination.

“There’s Sienna Burn on the next block over…”

“Nah,” Finnick dismissed the idea with a floppy wave; the drink already starting to settle in for him.

“Why not?”

“It burnt down.”

“Oh.”

“C-can I maybe pick the next one?” Gideon piped up.

“Are you going to suggest T.G.I.Raffes?” The rotund pâtissier replied by twiddling his thumbs in silent embarrassment. “Didn’t think so. Okay Short-round, your call.”

“Curious Carnivore.”

“What?” Nick recoiled in surprise. “Why would you want to take him there?!”

“Because it’s karaoke night,” Finnick shrugged. “Hey Grey, you wanna see some drunk homos belt out showtunes like there’s no tomorrow? C’mon, first round of girly drinks are on me.”

While Nick wasn’t too shy about visiting a gay bar with friends, he was a little apprehensive about immersing a good ole boy like Gideon into a place like this. However, much to his shock, Gideon took to it like a fish in water, as he managed to befriend both the heavily pierced bull working the bar and the otter couple seated next to them; all before he even drank half of his first pina colada.

It was while a very effeminate skunk was crooning ‘Wild and Untamed Thing’ on the stage that Nick came out of the stupor of his second fuzzy navel and realized something was missing. “Hey, where’s… Where’s Gideon?”

“Dunno,” Finnicked replied, scanning the room with heavy eyelids, “but you better find him before he learns what those holes between the stalls are for.” The otters next to them giggled as Nick stumbled to his feet and weaved around the crowd in search of his absent guest.

It didn’t take long to track him down by the entrance to the restrooms, where Gideon was having a friendly chat with a rabbit around his age. “C’mon Gid,” Nick tugged him by the arm. “If we stay any longer we’ll sprout roots.”

“Well, well, Nick Wilde,” the rabbit purred, “long time no call.”

Nick did a double-take before he realized who this blue eyed bunny was. “Cal?”

“Oh, you two know each other?” Gideon asked; completely oblivious to what was clearly written between the lines.

“Uh, yeah, we’ve met,” Nick winced; wishing he would be struck dead right then.

“Well ain’t that a small world?”

“Sure is,” he gave another strong pull at Gideon’s arm, finally getting his feet to budge and follow his lead. “Nice seeing you, Cal.” He didn’t even stop to tell Finnick they were leaving, he simply picked the tiny fox up by the collar and ushered the two of them out of the bar and back into the cool, dark night.

The next few stops were made without debate or fanfare; Nick simply wanted to put as much distance between himself and his memories of past mistakes made while drunk and lonely.

It was somewhere around the fourth or fifth place that they had ordered a tray of sampler shots, which they had intended on going slow with, but unfortunately Gideon had gotten really impressed with how some of the dessert shots really tasted like his own baked goods. This resulted in what could only be considered a shot-tasting party, where they drank and debated whether or not that last shot tasted enough like gingerbread and frosting. After several trays of shots and some harsh words from the bar staff regarding the noise they were making, they spilled back out onto the street, looking like they had been trampled by a jogging club of rhinos.

Nick instinctively moved his paws to straighten his tie, but found only air. He gave a few more tries before he realized it simply wasn’t there. “M’ tiez gone… Hey. Hey C-Carrots, put- put, uh… An A… An APB for my tie.”

“Quit shovin’!” Finnick barked at Nick. “I ain’t your damned Carrots.”

Nick's head swam and bobbed as he tried to get his eyes to refocus. “S-Sorry, Fin, I, uh… I, uh… I though y’were Judy.”

Gideon suddenly burst out in uncontrollable laughter. “Ah git it! Hee hee! Ah git it!”

“Get wut?”

“She’s a- She’s a- She’s a c-carrot farmerahahahahahaha— URGF!!” Suddenly Gideon’s head jerked forward and he launched a stream of gingerbread flavored bile onto the sidewalk. Nick and Finnick each leapt back, narrowly avoiding the splatter that bounced off the concrete. “Uhh… Nick? Ah don’ feel too goo— RGLFF!!” Another barrage violently erupted from his muzzle, adding to the tropical colored puddle.

“Okay. Okay… We’ll, uh, head home. Right- Right after we find my…. Tie.” Nick reached into his back pocket and instead of the phone he was going to use to call Judy for help, he found his tie. “Hey-hey! Look!” He beamed proudly and displayed his recovered tie for the others, but Gideon was too sick to notice, and Finnick was to surly to care.

He was still struggling to work the tie’s loop over his head when a ZPD cruiser pulled up and two officers stepped out.

“Alright boys, party’s over, how about you come back with us to sleep it off—Hey, is that you Wilde?” One of the cops shone his light straight into Nick’s eyes.

“Hey there… Wolford? No, wait. …Fangmeyer? …Snarlov? …Grizzoli?” Nick started to snigger nervously. “I’m sorry, I- I keep getting youse wolfies all mixed up.”

“It’s McHorn,” the rhino cop curtly replied, turning off his flashlight. “You need a lift, Wilde?”

“Sure thing!”

The three of them were escorted into the back of the cruiser and slumped against the back seat to enjoy the long ride back home, with Nick and Gideon resting against each other, and Finnick tucked between them.

“Hey Nick?” Gideon spoke quietly, his eyes barely open.

“Yeah Gidermiester?”

“You’re okay for a fox.”

“You’re okay for a fox, too,” Nick replied, nuzzling against his new best friend. “You’re okay too…”

 

* * *

 

“Nicholas P. Wilde.”

“Huh? Wuzzat?” Nick forced his eyes open and they immediately began to water and sting as the fluorescent lights assaulted his senses. His jaw cracked as he worked it open and his tongue peeled off the roof of his mouth like a well-stuck bandaid. “Carrots? Izzat you?”

“Mm hm,” Judy sternly hummed. Nick’s eyes finally focused to see that she was standing behind bars, and holding a garden hose for some odd reason.

“Why- Why’re you in jail, Fluff?” Suddenly his brain recalibrated itself and he realized she wasn’t behind bars-- he was. “Oh.”

The three of them were all huddled together in the ZPD’s drunk tank. Finnick was still fast asleep, but Gideon was starting to wake up, having heard Nick and Judy talking.

“Oh, howdy Jude,” Gideon greeted her, while rubbing his paw in his still gelled hair, making it into a bigger mess that it already was.

“Morning Gideon,” Judy smiled brightly, clutching the hose between her paws. “Did you and Nick have fun last night?”

“I, ah… I do believe we had, yes ma’am.”

“Good,” her smile broke out into a grin that spooked both of the conscious foxes, “because now it’s my turn.”

And that’s when she pressed the nozzle, drenching them all in a tide of icy cold water.


End file.
